


Caring, Reliable, but Not a Mind Reader

by valda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:51:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil has a lot on his plate. Carlos is oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring, Reliable, but Not a Mind Reader

Cecil's show was a curious thing. He could never write the entire program in advance. When he'd first started, way back in--well, however long ago it had been, he'd tried it, and it just didn't work. There was always something happening that would take precedence over anything that had been planned. His most important skill, a skill he'd honed for--years, was it? Regardless, his most important skill was being able to write on the fly, to make breaking news events _make sense_ as they were happening, and to bring the town to a sort of resolution when they were over. There was literally no way to plan for that.

However, that didn't mean he didn't write _anything_ for the show. Far from it. There were regular segments for which he had content prepared early: the community calendar, the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. He often wrote multiple show intros in advance, then selected the one that seemed to fit the day's news best when the show started. And of course there was news that had already happened that needed reporting, and he had to be very careful to report it all correctly. Mid-show revisions were never fun, and they happened more often than Cecil liked.

His show didn't just come out of nowhere. He crafted it. He spent a lot of time on it. It was important and he was proud of the work he did.

It was late afternoon on one of Cecil's rare days off, and he was hunched over his desk just off the kitchen, poring over heavily redacted reports from the Sheriff's Secret Police, news tips he'd found scratched onto his window or scrawled in blood on fragments of paper stuffed into his left shoe, minutes from various political and school meetings (these were written in modified Sumerian to avoid cursing the reader), and today's edition of both newspapers. Writing a show was tricky without access to writing utensils, but Cecil had developed a knack for it, and could often compose an entire show outline in his head and remember it verbatim later. He'd tap particularly good turns of phrase into his phone.

Tomorrow's show was _not_ coming together well. He couldn't seem to find its rhythm. Something would probably happen tomorrow that would bring everything in line, but he couldn't count on that. Every show was a work of art, a reflection of Cecil's professionalism and ability, and leaving it to chance was unconscionable.

Compounding all this was the fact that it was his turn to do the laundry, and they were out of orange milk and pig feed, and his dog needed her anti-flea, tick, and possession blessings renewed. And he'd already lost most of the day.

Well, _lost_ was the wrong word. He'd spent most of the day with Carlos, who'd taken the day off too. And it had been wonderful. First they'd had a lazy breakfast at the kitchen table, and then they'd tumbled back into bed. They'd taken their time--a day off was so rare!--and just enjoyed one another, leisurely exploring and experimenting and teasing and bringing each other to heady climax. And then, wrapped up in each other, they'd fallen asleep. Twice Cecil had blearily roused, tried to untangle himself from sheets and legs and arms, and twice Carlos had mumbled pleadingly and tugged at him. And Cecil had given in and stayed there. He didn't regret it, not really. But...

"Hey," Carlos said suddenly, leaning over Cecil's shoulder and planting a kiss on his neck. "Want to go to the Moonlite All-Nite? I'm hungry."

Cecil massaged his own temples. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. Food was probably a good idea. "Yeah, we could do that." They'd eat, and maybe run a couple of those errands, and he could finish the laundry when they got home, and it wouldn't be too bad. He could still get his show notes done.

Cecil pushed up from the desk. "Let me get a shower."

"Hmm," Carlos said, catching Cecil around the waist. "I thought I might get _you_ first."

 _Again?_ Cecil thought, but he understood. They both had the day off for the first time in what seemed like ages. It only made sense to take advantage of it. And spending time with Carlos was one of Cecil's highest priorities.

"Come on," Carlos said, nuzzling his face into Cecil's neck. His cheeks were scruffy from a day of not shaving. Cecil liked it when Carlos was scruffy.

"All right, you've convinced me," Cecil said with a smile. He let Carlos catch his hands and tug him back into the bedroom.

~

Carlos was very attentive, and he liked to satisfy Cecil before indulging himself. He was gentle, and willing, and understanding, and oh-so- _good_ at everything. Which is why it was so frustrating that Carlos had been working for a _long_ time now, with no payoff whatsoever. Cecil was barely even hard.

He hoped Carlos wasn't as frustrated as he was. He was afraid to catch his scientist's eyes.

Cecil was trying to concentrate. He really was. The faster he could get off, the faster they could get to Carlos' turn, get into the shower, get to the diner, and run those errands. And then Cecil could write his show and go to bed and everything would be done and ready for tomorrow. And so he tried to think about Carlos' perfect teeth, the teeth that even now were grazing him gently; Carlos' beautiful skin; his rich eyes; his sweet voice. And that hair. Cecil reached down to curl the fingers of both hands in Carlos' perfect hair. He should definitely enjoy this, being spoiled by the love of his life. He should love his name on parted lips, the huff of hot breath against his skin, the murmured adulations, the unrelenting and expert attention to every perfect spot.

Down the hall, the washing machine buzzed. It was time to put that load in the dryer.

Cecil closed his eyes. He could do that _later_. He was doing _this_ now. And this was _good_. Carlos was so _good_.

Cecil groaned softly, partly to encourage Carlos and partly out of self-loathing. How ungrateful was he, that he couldn't appreciate his lover's glorious ministrations?

But there was literally no good way to segue from tomorrow's horoscopes. The tone was all wrong. He didn't know how he was supposed to end a segment like that. _Thanks, stars_ , he sighed inwardly, staring at the wall.

Carlos slid his tongue in a particularly delicious way and Cecil felt himself twitch. _Yes_ , he thought. _This. I'm doing this now._

He gave in and thought about porn. He'd found a particularly good one recently, with a chair, and a lizard. Yes. Good. His mind blanked as he zeroed his focus in on squirming, hot flesh, and soon enough he was rock solid, and shortly thereafter Carlos was swallowing him down.

The scientist climbed up Cecil's body, giving him a wicked, satisfied smile. Cecil wrapped his arms around him. "Sorry that took so long," he murmured.

"Not a problem," Carlos said, sounding pleased with himself, and Cecil was relieved. It was fine; Carlos was happy.

Cecil reached between them and set to returning the favor.

~

When they arrived at the Moonlite All-Nite, the dinner crowd had shown up in droves. There were people--and other beings--of all kinds filling the booths, packing the waiting area, spilling out onto the sidewalk. Cecil twisted his hands together. This was bad. Getting a table was going to take forever.

He didn't trust himself to speak, so he said nothing, and Carlos requested a table for two. They were not given a wait time.

There was no good spot to wait. Standing there in the lobby, servers kept trying to wriggle past with giant trays overflowing with feathers and tentacles. Outside, several people were smoking, which put Cecil on edge; he'd kicked the habit years ago, it was terrible for his voice, but sometimes he _missed_ it. And it would be especially nice right _now_.

They had barely been waiting five minutes when Cecil couldn't stand it any longer. "Carlos," he said in a small voice, looking up at his scientist, "I don't want to be here. Can we go home?"

Carlos looked surprised. Well, of course he did. "Sure, sweetheart," he said, and moved toward the host stand to cancel their table. Cecil took the opportunity to bolt to the car.

The ride away from the diner was quiet. Cecil wondered if Carlos would say anything, ask anything, but he didn't. Finally Cecil said, "Well, I guess we _should_ get something to eat."

Carlos turned the wrong way off the access road, heading deeper into town instead of back toward home. Cecil supposed he was going to a drive-thru, maybe the Arby's. But then they passed the Arby's, and they were still going. Eventually Cecil realized that they were headed for Big Rico's Pizza.

 _Takeout_ , Cecil thought plaintively. _I meant takeout, or fast food. Something quick so we can get home._

Like the Moonlite All-Nite, Big Rico's was overflowing with customers. Cecil wondered if half the town was at the diner and the other half was here. He closed his eyes. If this was what Carlos wanted, he would just deal with it.

But Carlos didn't pull in. "I was thinking we'd go to Rico's," he said, "but I just remembered another good place."

Carlos drove, and drove, and drove. Cecil wondered if they would ever arrive. He thought that at any moment he might shout. Or cry. He pulled out his phone and started furiously typing show notes, which of course were stupid and disjointed and probably unusable because he couldn't focus on anything but the fact that so much time had passed and they hadn't gotten _anything_ done.

"When you asked if I wanted to go to dinner," he clipped suddenly, "I should have said no."

He didn't look at Carlos, but soon he felt the other man's hand curl around his own. "I'm sorry," Carlos said.

"It's not _your_ fault," Cecil huffed, rolling his eyes.

They went quiet again. Eventually, finally, Carlos pulled the car into a parking lot, and as he parked it became evident that they _still_ weren't getting takeout. Apparently Carlos couldn't take a hint.

Cecil was glowering as they walked into a small cafe. Carlos studied the menu board, selected rice pancakes with eggs and crickets. Cecil could not bring himself to care about any of the menu items and simply chose the first thing that sounded edible: an invisible corn chicken wrap.

"Any sauce?" the cashier asked.

Cecil's lowest, growliest voice came out when he said "No," and the woman stumbled back several steps, banging into a tray of gluten-free muffins.

They sat down and Cecil stared at the table, miserable. He knew he was probably making Carlos uncomfortable, but more of him didn't care about that than did care, and some part of him _wanted_ Carlos to be uncomfortable. He scowled, forced himself to stop scowling, and glanced up at Carlos. The scientist gave him a timid smile. Cecil made an effort to return it. He thought maybe the corners of his mouth had moved a little.

The food arrived, and Cecil fell to eating it, and suddenly he was ravenous. The wrap was gone in minutes and soon he was poaching crickets from Carlos' plate.

"Are you feeling any better, now that you have some food in you?" Carlos asked.

Cecil paused, then let out a long breath. "I guess," he said, sullenly. "I'm just thinking about everything that's left to do. Belimah's due for her blessings, and I need to go to the Ralph's, and the laundry...and I didn't get very far with my show notes _at all_..."

"Cecil," Carlos said, and he covered Cecil's hands with his own. "When we get back, I'll finish the laundry and go to the Ralph's. You can concentrate on your show. And, um, we can bless Belimah together." He shrugged a little, smiling apologetically. "I _think_ I know the ritual, but just in case."

Cecil was finally able to meet Carlos' eyes. The scientist looked anxious--no, _concerned_. Cecil discovered he could once again smile. He tipped his hands back, tracing his fingers along Carlos' palms until they were free to interlace with his perfectly imperfect boyfriend's skillful digits. He wove their fingers together and squeezed tight.

"Carlos," he said, and his voice was warm, and he was glad for it.

"You can--you can say no to me, you know," Carlos said, and his face flushed a little. He glanced away, then looked shyly back. "I won't be mad."

"But you won't be happy, either," Cecil protested quietly. "I want you to be happy."

"Oh, Cecil," Carlos said, and he untangled a hand to cup Cecil's face. "I want _you_ to be happy, too. I can't be happy if you're not happy." He leaned across the table for a short, sweet kiss. "Please, be selfish. Let me know when you need me. I want to take care of you. I _love_ taking care of you."

Now Cecil was flushing. He leaned his cheek into Carlos' hand. It was some time before he was able to speak. "All right," he said at last. "I'll try."

As they set off for home together in Carlos' coupe, hand in hand, Cecil's heart felt light, and his mind felt clear, and...

"Oh!" he said suddenly. And he grinned, because he finally knew how to structure tomorrow's show.

**Author's Note:**

> Since "Khoshekh" means "darkness" in Hebrew, I thought I'd try to find another Hebrew word for Cecil's dog's name. "Belimah" means "void," if Google Translate can be believed.


End file.
